


Solace From a Dream

by airebellah



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Fluff, Bilbo Has Issues, Desolation of Smaug, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Oblivious Bilbo, One-Shot, Overprotective Thorin, PTSD, Poor Bilbo, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Protective Thorin, Quest of Erebor, Sassy Bilbo, Slash, Thorin Feels, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin is a Softie, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airebellah/pseuds/airebellah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“You were having a night terror,” Thorin stated.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“O-oh. I am, ah, sorry for disturbing you,” Bilbo mumbled. He ducked his head to avoid eye contact, hands twisting and untwisting in the material covering him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You need not apologize, little one. Your first kill…It is not something you easily forget."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“When will it get easier?” Bilbo asked hoarsely.</em>
</p><p>When Bilbo has a nightmare after killing orcs outside Goblin Town, Thorin comforts him. Takes place in Desolation of Smaug before Beorn's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace From a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy everyone, so this is my first story ever :0 It's non-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. I hope everyone is in character and that I realistically depicted their behaviours/dialogue/etc. If not, please let me know :) as I said, this is my very first work - ever - so it might not be great. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

While the other members of the Company laid out their bedrolls and prepared for sleep, Thorin Oakenshield sat down at the base of a tree a few feet away from the camp. He had volunteered for the first watch, though he rather doubted he would be waking anyone else for a shift after him. After all they had been through – the Stone Giants, Goblin Town, then facing Azog and his cronies – they deserved a full night's rest.

It was a few hours into the night when someone started tossing around in their sleep. As he looked over, Thorin could see Bilbo's curls sticking out of the bundle of blanket from which the movement came. Thorin remembered overhearing Bofur offering their smallest member his bedroll, as Bilbo had lost his pack with the goblins. Thorin felt a pang in his chest; bedrolls for every member of the Company – just another thing he had failed to provide.

Pushing the thought aside, Thorin watched as Bilbo alternatively scrunched into a small ball and kicked out his limbs, simulating the warding off an unseen assailant. When the small creature started making low noises of distress, Thorin was on his feet before he even realized.

As he approached the Halfling, he focused on making his heavy footfalls as quiet as possible. It would not do to wake the entire company over this. By now, he could already hear Bilbo's groans accompanied by desperate panting. Thorin crouched down at Bilbo's side, reaching out and grasping his arm through the blanket. Shaking it softly, he murmured, "Halflng." When no response was met, he shook a little firmer. "Halfling, wake up."

Bilbo awoke with a start, shooting into a sitting position. In hindsight, awaking a warrior, especially during a night terror, was never a good idea. It was hard to say how they would react to such a thing, but it was more often than not with violence. Thorin certainly knew this better than most, but he could not watch his burglar suffering without doing something.

“Wh-wha-?” Bilbo managed groggily, his voice catching in his throat. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, grimacing when realized he was sweating.

“You were having a night terror,” Thorin stated.

“O-oh. I am, ah, sorry for disturbing you,” Bilbo mumbles. He ducked his head to avoid eye contact, hands twisting and untwisting in the material covering him.

The thought that Bilbo expected reprimanding for this did not sit well with Thorin. “You need not apologize, little one," he said gently. "Your first kill…” he trailed off for a moment, staring into the black night. “It is not something you easily forget,” he said finally.

“When will it get easier?” Bilbo asked, voice painfully hoarse.

“With time, you will come to terms with it," Thorin said, a poor attempt at comfort. “How long this takes, however, is different for everyone.”

Bilbo nodded slowly, chewing on his lip as he mulled over Thorin’s words. He quirked his lips, nose twitching as he finally whispering, “I did it to save you." As if deciding something, he looked up at Thorin determinedly. “I cannot regret that.”

Thorin inclined his head, silently communicating his deep gratefulness for what the Halfling had done. “It is only natural to be troubled by death, Master Baggins,” he replied, “Whether you regret it or not.”

With those words, Thorin slowly stood up. He looked down at the Halfling, who was in turn looking up at him with those too-wide eyes. And yet, if one was beguiled into thinking Bilbo sweet and innocent due to his soft, homely features… Thorin knew all too well the surprise they were in for.

“If you cannot sleep, I would not be disagreeable to company,” Thorin invited. It was a simple invitation, one Bilbo could easily refuse if he so desired.

But Bilbo’s brow furrowed as he cocked his head to the side. “Are you still on watch? Surely it is Gloin’s turn by now.”

Thorin huffed in exasperation, already foreseeing the lecture he would surely receive if Bilbo found out Thorin had no intention of sleeping this night. “Mayhaps I should rescind my invitation,” he grumbled testily as he began walking back to his spot under the tree.

Silence accompanied Thorin, and he quickly pushed away the stab of disappointment in his chest. Thus, as he settled down against the trunk, he had to school in his surprise to see Bilbo trailing a few feet away. Halflings were known to be silent when they so wished, a feature to which Thorn was not sure he would ever become accustomed. Bilbo settled in beside him, with just enough room left to rest his back against the tree as well. Thorin considered moving over – it was only polite, seeing as he was the one who had invited Bilbo to join him. But he found he quite liked how the lack of room necessitated Bilbo’s close proximity.

The Halfling seemed content to sit in silence, clasping his hands in his lap politely as he gazed up at the night sky. Thorin, on the other hand, was less than comfortable. He felt compelled to say something, or at least _do_ something. Thus he decided to withdraw his pipe, cleaning the bowl with exaggerated slowness. Once the admittedly _invisible_ debris was removed, he moved on to filling it. Though Bilbo was trying to be subtle, Thorin noticed the yearning side-glances thrown his way. Lighting the pipe, he brought the stem to his lips and took a long, slow drag. The warm, thick smoke crept down his throat and filled his lungs. He slowly exhaled, feeling the tension leave him much like the grey vapours pouring out of his mouth. He took another lungful, quicker this time, before handing his pipe over to Bilbo. The Halfling looked from the pipe back to Thorin multiple times, blinking in surprise.

“Oh, I-I mustn’t!” he finally squeaked.

“You lost your pack in the Goblin caves, did you not?”

“Well – yes,” Bilbo admitted.

Thorin pursed his lips together in an _o_ as he let out a smoke ring. He blew softly, and the ring floated away towards the stars Bilbo had been admiring. He pushed the pipe closer to Bilbo, regaining the Halfling’s gaze, as he had been watching the smoke ring with ill-hidden longing. “Some pipe-weed will do you good after all you have been through. I must insist.” His words brooked no argument, and he more-or-less forced the pipe into Bilbo’s hand. As Bilbo’s small hand wrapped around the base (making the pipe look uncomfortably big and bulky), his fingers brushed against Thorin’s skin.

“You are cold!” He hadn’t meant it to sound so accusing, but truly, Bilbo should have mentioned the weather affected him so. Thorin would have insisted he sit closer to the fire, where he could bask in its warmth.

Bilbo hummed distractedly, focused on the promise of a smoke after far too long. But as he brought the pipe to his lips and took a breath, his throat was overwhelmed by the rich, sharp pungency of the Dwarvish pipe-weed. His lungs began to burn as he doubled over, coughing and hacking. Eye watering, he threw out an arm – quite dramatically, if Thorin may say – to keep the pipe away from him.

“Wh-what is this!” Bilbo finally managed between coughs. Distracted as he was, he had yet to realize Thorin had slipped off his fur-lined cloak and draped it over Bilbo’s smaller form.

“It is pipe-weed,” Thorin drawled.

“Yes, yes, I know what it is!” Bilbo snarked in reply. His body shook with a few more coughs that he failed miserably at containing.

Thorin smirked haughtily. “I thought Halflings were fond of a smoke. My apologies.”

Bilbo’s eyes immediately narrowed. “You know very well, Thorin Oakenshield! But this – this–” wiping his watery eyes, he waved the pipe accusingly at the Dwarf king. “This is not quality pipe-weed! It burns as if it is smoke from a fire!”

Thorin snorted. “I would not expect one so… soft, such as yourself, to be accustomed to Dwarvish pipe-weed.”

Bilbo let out a slow, long-suffering sigh. “Perhaps that is because, O King, you Dwarves see everything as a challenge – even when partaking in simple pleasures such as the smoking of pipe-weed!”

Thorin tipped his head back and let out rasping laugh. It had been far too long since he had felt free enough to do so; Bilbo's startled stare left the King wondering if he had ever even laughed on their journey at all. "Aye," he finally conceded. “Perhaps you are right about that, little one.”

Bilbo’s nose scrunched up in indignation. “I am not little, I will have you know. I am a perfectly respectable size for a Gentlehobbit!”

“It just so happens that _perfectly respectable_ for you translates to _quite small_ for the rest of Arda,” Thorin replied.

Bilbo huffed indignantly. “Have you ever considered that it is the rest of you that are ridiculously oversized?”

All Thorin had to do was simply raise a brow, and Bilbo sighed in defeat. They lapsed into silence after that, though Bilbo felt it was rather companionable. As dawn approached, Bilbo’s head tipped closer and closer to his knees, slowly succumbing to sleep. When Thorin looked over, it was to the sight of Bilbo’s forehead resting on his knees, arms crossed on his shins. The lack of noise while the Halfling slept was unnerving to Thorin; loud snoring was praised as a sign of good health among dwarrows.

So if the dwarf king fussed a bit over his burglar – tucking the fur cloak tighter around Bilbo’s slender shoulders, gently carding a hand through his more unruly curls, and surreptitiously checking to see if his pulse was present and steady… well, no one was awake to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed, and you can check me out on tumblr under the same name ;) always looking to chat!


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